Alyssa Nace
EDC 102H F13
Dr. Fogleman
Due: September 11, 2013
I've never really sat down to think about what I could be called an "expert" at. Thinking about it now, I don't think I'm an expert at anything really. However, there is one thing I am pretty good at: taking responsibility. I didn't acquire this skill completely through positive experiences though, and I don't want to be that one person who shares their sob story. My life has been a difficult journey, but I've always taken my responsibilities seriously.
The first years of my childhood were spent growing up in a two-story house in North Attleboro, Massachusetts with my mom, dad, and older brother (who is four years my elder). Many of my friends lived on my street and my brother and I would play outside with them. All was going well, and we were happy as could be. At least, until the day my mom took me on a drive with her alone; when she told me that she and my dad were going to get a divorce. For my age, I had a decent understanding of what that meant. It meant that the whole family wouldn't be under one roof, and that my life would be split between time with my mom and time with my dad.
My older brother however, had a much harder time grasping the idea. He has Oppositional Defiance Disorder, ADHD, and is bipolar. He refused to accept that they were separating, and would throw fits and tantrums whenever the subject came up. Though I wasn't a fan of the situation either, I'd put my feelings aside to calm him with reassuring remarks or clever distractions. I was determined to make it my responsibility to keep him happy. And that decision set the foundation upon which my skill was built.
My parents separated; my mom holding primary custody moved us to a small house in Pawtucket, Rhode Island while my dad moved into an apartment a few blocks from the old house. My brother and I were constantly being toted between each residence. I hated it, and I hated the tension I felt, even then, between my parents. Despite that, I always made it seem like a happy occasion so my brother would be happy. This continued until late 2001 when my dad moved to Florida for reasons unknown. (My mom later told me it was to get away with sending less for child support; but who knows how true that is).
The next year, my mom remarried. My younger brother was born in 2003, and I accepted new responsibilities for him too. On any given day, one could find me by mom mom's side, ready to fetch anything she needed for him. I remember that in fourth grade we were asked to make a New Year's resolution, and mine was to be as helpful as possible in taking care of my brothers, not that I didn't do that already. My teacher may have found it amusing, but I was serious about it.
My mom was fired that year, and she found a new job and a second job on top of that. This made my mom's and stepdad's schedules overlap in morning though, so sometimes I had to make sure my older brother ate, took all of his medications, and safely got on his bus to go to school before I locked up the house and left to walk to my school. That's a lot of responsibility for a young person. But I didn't mind, I enjoyed it and knew it helped keep my mom at ease. Eventually my older brother became too much for us to handle, so he was moved out of our house. It's at this point that my personal life gets really sad. My mom got a second divorce, so for the past few years I've been helping my mom out even more.
I've been talking about my family responsibilities growing up, but those were not my only responsibilities. My whole life I was constantly being encouraged to do well in school, so I always strived to do my best. In fourth grade I read the most hours total over our February vacation, so I got a 1st place ribbon (pretty sweet, huh?). In Junior High, I received Highest Honors every trimester. In High School I was placed in advanced classes and took three AP courses my senior year. I was also in the Rhode Island Honor Society, National Honor Society, and graduated 6th in my class.
I was also one of the most active community chorus members throughout High School. I made it my responsibility to go to every meeting, event, or fundraiser. In the later years of my participation, I was often one of the main student coordinators at our fundraising events, so I was responsible for many things to ensure the fundraiser went by smoothly. I enjoyed it so much, that if my schedule allows it, I'm going to continue helping with fundraisers.
Today, many of my responsibilities are at home. Most of the household chores are my responsibility, and I'm pretty much in charge of making sure my younger brother does his homework thoroughly and completely. It's getting harder, since now my school schedule is crazy, but still, I take responsibility for a vast number of things. I don't consider myself an expert though, and occasionally I wish some bits of responsibility were taken off my plate. But honestly, who doesn't?
EDC 102H F13
Dr. Fogleman
Due: September 11, 2013
I've never really sat down to think about what I could be called an "expert" at. Thinking about it now, I don't think I'm an expert at anything really. However, there is one thing I am pretty good at: taking responsibility. I didn't acquire this skill completely through positive experiences though, and I don't want to be that one person who shares their sob story. My life has been a difficult journey, but I've always taken my responsibilities seriously.
The first years of my childhood were spent growing up in a two-story house in North Attleboro, Massachusetts with my mom, dad, and older brother (who is four years my elder). Many of my friends lived on my street and my brother and I would play outside with them. All was going well, and we were happy as could be. At least, until the day my mom took me on a drive with her alone; when she told me that she and my dad were going to get a divorce. For my age, I had a decent understanding of what that meant. It meant that the whole family wouldn't be under one roof, and that my life would be split between time with my mom and time with my dad.
My older brother however, had a much harder time grasping the idea. He has Oppositional Defiance Disorder, ADHD, and is bipolar. He refused to accept that they were separating, and would throw fits and tantrums whenever the subject came up. Though I wasn't a fan of the situation either, I'd put my feelings aside to calm him with reassuring remarks or clever distractions. I was determined to make it my responsibility to keep him happy. And that decision set the foundation upon which my skill was built.
My parents separated; my mom holding primary custody moved us to a small house in Pawtucket, Rhode Island while my dad moved into an apartment a few blocks from the old house. My brother and I were constantly being toted between each residence. I hated it, and I hated the tension I felt, even then, between my parents. Despite that, I always made it seem like a happy occasion so my brother would be happy. This continued until late 2001 when my dad moved to Florida for reasons unknown. (My mom later told me it was to get away with sending less for child support; but who knows how true that is).
The next year, my mom remarried. My younger brother was born in 2003, and I accepted new responsibilities for him too. On any given day, one could find me by mom mom's side, ready to fetch anything she needed for him. I remember that in fourth grade we were asked to make a New Year's resolution, and mine was to be as helpful as possible in taking care of my brothers, not that I didn't do that already. My teacher may have found it amusing, but I was serious about it.
My mom was fired that year, and she found a new job and a second job on top of that. This made my mom's and stepdad's schedules overlap in morning though, so sometimes I had to make sure my older brother ate, took all of his medications, and safely got on his bus to go to school before I locked up the house and left to walk to my school. That's a lot of responsibility for a young person. But I didn't mind, I enjoyed it and knew it helped keep my mom at ease. Eventually my older brother became too much for us to handle, so he was moved out of our house. It's at this point that my personal life gets really sad. My mom got a second divorce, so for the past few years I've been helping my mom out even more.
I've been talking about my family responsibilities growing up, but those were not my only responsibilities. My whole life I was constantly being encouraged to do well in school, so I always strived to do my best. In fourth grade I read the most hours total over our February vacation, so I got a 1st place ribbon (pretty sweet, huh?). In Junior High, I received Highest Honors every trimester. In High School I was placed in advanced classes and took three AP courses my senior year. I was also in the Rhode Island Honor Society, National Honor Society, and graduated 6th in my class.
I was also one of the most active community chorus members throughout High School. I made it my responsibility to go to every meeting, event, or fundraiser. In the later years of my participation, I was often one of the main student coordinators at our fundraising events, so I was responsible for many things to ensure the fundraiser went by smoothly. I enjoyed it so much, that if my schedule allows it, I'm going to continue helping with fundraisers.
Today, many of my responsibilities are at home. Most of the household chores are my responsibility, and I'm pretty much in charge of making sure my younger brother does his homework thoroughly and completely. It's getting harder, since now my school schedule is crazy, but still, I take responsibility for a vast number of things. I don't consider myself an expert though, and occasionally I wish some bits of responsibility were taken off my plate. But honestly, who doesn't?